


To Live Humbly For One

by Miaou Jones (miaoujones)



Category: Banana Fish (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Canon Divergence, Fallen in Love, Fix-It, Introspection, M/M, POV Second Person, Reunions, Struggling with Emotions, Trying to do the right thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-21 00:10:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17032557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miaoujones/pseuds/Miaou%20Jones
Summary: In every way that matters, Eiji finds Ash.





	To Live Humbly For One

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Bottomfeeder](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bottomfeeder/gifts).



> Much of Ash's dialogue in the opening scene is lifted directly from the Commie translation—all of it, right up until canon divergence kicks in.
> 
> An absolute debt of gratitude to Aargle for not only betaing this, but for so many wonderful conversations about these characters and Banana Fish in general. It's no exaggeration to say this fic could not exist without you (if anything, it's an understatement!). ♥

Talking to yourself, inside your head as well as aloud, helps you process and move through the world around you. 

In some ways, talking to yourself is like talking to Blanca. You learned that years ago, after he left and you were on your own. You didn't think you had anyone to talk to anymore—and then you discovered yourself. You're not entirely sure you can trust yourself, just as you can't be sure you can trust Blanca, but you don't always have a choice.

Blanca will want to leave New York soon, to go back into retirement in the Caribbean. You have to give him payment for his contract with you before he goes, not because he needs the money (what hitman needs $500? What hitman even sets a contract price that low?) but because whatever else he is, he's a professional. An unpaid contract is unfinished business, and neither of you likes leaving anything unfinished.

You find him in the park, right where you expect to—where, you suspect, he's expecting you to find him. You give him his money and, unexpectedly, though actually you think you should have seen it coming, he asks you about Yut Lung, 

"What a faithful servant, caring for his master after the contract is over," you say. It has a light, jabbing tone, as if you're making fun of him for it—but you aren't. Part of you admires it, actually. You don't tell him that, but you're pretty sure he understands, not in spite of your tone but because of it; this is just the way the two of you talk to each other. 

"Eiji is going back to Japan," he tells you. You don't know why—no, you know why he's telling you. But it doesn't matter.

You answer the question the same way he's asked it, without acknowledging that there's a question at all. Because if you acknowledged the question, you would have to acknowledge that there are choices to be made... 

But there aren't. Not really. Or there are, but there's only one possible choice. "You were right," you say. That's something few people seem to understand about you: you don't mind admitting when you're wrong and someone else is right. "I don't bring him anything but danger," you say calmly, as if it's a neutral fact and not one that's ripping your heart out. You need your heart to live, to pump blood through your body. You just need your heart to circulate blood, not for anything else, so you shut down all extraneous tasks and say, calmly and dispassionately with your heart shut down, "I'm the kind of person that he needs to stay away from." Your heart flutters like it's trying to jumpstart, but you tamp it down. "I get it now." 

That's a lie. You could lie to almost anyone about this, you could even lie to Eiji. But Blanca will see through it; he always has seen through your lies. And it's become impossible to lie to yourself, when it comes to Eiji. "Nah, I've known it all along. I just couldn't accept it. Pitiful, huh." 

You hear the emotion in your words. What a traitor your mouth is. What a traitor your heart is.

Maybe your mouth and your heart are just trying to help you get Eiji out of your system. There's probably no one else who could hear such words without doing something with them, throwing them in your face or using them against you or, worse yet, trying to _help_ you...

Blanca won't do that. He's maybe the only one who won't, so you let your heart and your mouth purge your system. You tell Blanca about Eiji. You're not going to talk about Eiji ever again, so it's fine to say it all now, everything in your heart. You tell Blanca how Eiji was different from everyone you've ever met. How weird you thought he was. How you were wrong about him. You tell Blanca about the warmth that flows from Eiji, how you feel it; how it makes you feel complete.

You don't give the warmth any other name. Not aloud, anyhow.

You don't tell Blanca about the moment you fell in love with Eiji. That time you saw him fly. 

At the time, you didn't know yourself that you'd fallen. You didn't know what the feeling filling you up was. You're not sure when you started to know, but you know now. 

You don't know if Eiji knows. You hope he doesn't.

You hope no one knows. It's better that way. Safer that way. Safer for Eiji.

You have to keep EIji safe from everyone, including yourself. 

Especially yourself. 

"I'm a killing machine," you say aloud. You're not telling Blanca, though he's there listening. You're telling yourself. You have to make sure you know it, so you don't get any ideas that you're anything you're not. So you don't get any ideas that something that can't happen is possible.

It's not possible.

The valve is open and the emotions are pouring out of you, and that's fine because you're purging yourself. It's okay because it's Blanca, and the one thing you know, the one thing you're sure of in the world right at this moment, is that Blanca won't hurt you. Even with a contract against you, he didn't hurt you. So.

"I'll never meet him again," you say. You have to make sure you know it: that you understand and accept it. You and Eiji will never—you'll never see him again. That's the way it must be. It's better that way.

You've never heard yourself like this. Even when Grif left...

You've never felt so—

You rally yourself. "But he's my friend." Because that's the point of this. You aren't doing this because Eiji means nothing to you. You're doing it because he means _everything_ to you. More than being in love with him, you treasure his friendship. And that will endure through everything. As long as Eiji is alive and safe somewhere in the world, you have a friend. 

It's all mixed up together, all the feelings you have for Eiji. You don't know if you even know them all yourself... "I'm allowed to feel for him, right?"

It's an actual question.

Blanca doesn't say anything.

You sit there quietly. Sometimes talking to Blanca is like talking to yourself, and sometimes there are simply no words.

You sit there in silence, and sometimes sitting with Blanca is like sitting with yourself.

The next breath he takes is audible, and then he says, "What are you going to do now?"

"Nothing." You're going to keep Eiji safe, that's what you're going to do. You switch the conversation away from him. "Be a thug, like always." You look at Blanca, prepared to flash a grin, to let him know you're fine, really.

He isn't looking at you. "Won't you come with me to the Caribbean?" 

It should be a joke. That's the way the two of you talk to each other. It should be a joke, but there's something about the way he isn't looking at you that makes it sincere, that makes it an invitation...

You look at him for a moment longer before you get the joking tone back in your own voice: "You want to take me to fill your void? That's not like you, Sergei."

The use of his proper name makes him smile, and you smile too because you've returned things to normal between the two of you, returned yourself to normal—

"What's here for you, Ash?" he says. His eyes are closed. You wonder what he's looking at behind his eyelids...

You shrug. He can't see it, so you translate the gesture into your tone. "My life." 

Your life without Eiji. Your life without Shorter. Your life without Skip. Your life without—and yeah, your relationship with him was fucked up from the start, fucked up straight through to the fucked up end, but it was still _something_ and now it's gone—your life without Golzine. All of them are gone. All the something you ever had is nothing now...

Blanca opens his eyes and looks at you. You haven't said anything so there's no way he could have heard any of your private thoughts in your tone, but somehow he's seeing them. You can tell by the way he's looking at you. You don't know if he's reading your eyes or your face or your whole body or what, but you have a feeling looking away won't help, so you keep looking back. You're looking right at him when he says, quiet and even, "Come with me to the Caribbean, Ash."

You can say no. It's not a command but even if it were, who is he to command you? Who is anyone?

The two of you are looking at each other. You look away first. "I have to take care of some things first," you hear yourself say. You thought your heart and your mouth were done doing whatever the hell they wanted, but apparently not. 

You can still do what you want, in spite of your mouth and your heart. Even when Blanca says, "Of course," you don't have to do it. 

You don't have to. But what else are you going to do now?

 

You're not going to be a thug anymore, but you know a lot of kids who still will be. You can't just abandon them; you have to make sure they're taken care of. And you know just the thugs to take care of your thugs. 

You call a meeting with Cain and Sing. You text them your intentions in advance because you don't want a long, drawn out scene and you don't want to waste time meeting with them if they're just going to say no. 

Cain texts back that he'll hear you out, which is just what you want. Sing texts that he went to the airport to see Eiji off, which lifts a weight off your chest—until he adds, "I told him you told him to come back to New York soon."

If you had any doubts, any second thoughts about going to the Caribbean, they leave you with Sing's words. You _have_ to leave New York now.

The three of you meet up down by the docks. Cain has some questions, as you expected, but agrees to your plan of giving them your gang and your territory—on the condition that Sing agrees as well. Cain is solid; you like him.

Sing, on the other hand. You don't know if anything such as "like" can ever pass between the two of you, but there's something there. Something that might be better than "like." He can talk about killing you all he wants, but you know he'll never do it. He has too much internal honor and a moral code and something beyond that you may not fully understand, but you know he won't kill you. You think—if you believed in hoping, you'd even hope—that he'll say yes as well. You told Blanca that Sing is too soft, but actually that's not it. He'd never have made it this far if he were soft. Maybe you don't get him the way you get Cain, but somehow you know he's the one for this.

He looks at Cain and an understanding passes between the two of them before Sing nods and agrees. You give them some instructions but you're going to leave the transition and its details up to them. You're leaving New York in their capable hands.

You're leaving New York and none of them needs to know where you're going. It's better that way. Safer that way, for them as well as you. Even when Sing asks directly, you only say that you're flying away. It's literal, of course; you're getting on a plane to the Caribbean. But when you hear your own words, you can't help thinking of that moment again, when you saw Eiji fly...

Then Sing says, "What should I tell Eiji when he comes back?"

That gives you pause. You almost laugh at yourself for assuming without realizing you'd done so that Eiji would not return to New York with you gone. But of course he might; he probably will. 

If you're not here, no one—not Eiji, not anyone else—can be used against you. That may not be part of what Blanca has offered you, but you've always made what you want out of others' offers.

You don't answer Sing directly but instead you say, trusting him to read between the lines, entrusting this last, vital task to him and Cain, "Make sure everyone knows I'm gone for good. _Everyone._

Sing opens his mouth to argue with you, but you're done. You lift your hand and flatly say, "See you," as you turn to go, even though you won't see either of them again.

You won't see anyone again. Except Blanca, of course. You go to get your new passport and the cash you have lying around and a few things you think you might want once you're in the Caribbean, and then you go to meet him at the airport. 

You had to give him a name to put on your ticket so he already knows what's on your passport, but he lets out a laugh when he catches sight of it as you're going through security anyhow

"Shut up," you say.

"It suits you," he says, and that _really_ makes you want to tell him to shut up, but you counter his smile with one of your own instead and say you'll be right back.

You walk down the concourse and lean back against the wall between gates. You pull up Max's contact, but then stare at the blank message. He's your last tie to New York. Your last tie to your brother. You want to say something but you don't know what.

"Catch you on the flip side," you finally type. 

You hit _send_ , and then you smash your phone on the floor, stepping on it and grinding with your heel for good measure. Ash Lynx is dead, for real this time.

Long live Holden Caulfield.

 

It would be neither fair nor accurate to say that life in the Caribbean isn't what you thought it would be. You didn't really think about what it would be like at all, aside from _not New York_. And it is that. It's also more of a cliché than you though it'd be, at least the way you and Sergei live it. It's easy but it's not boring. One is only bored if they let themselves be, and you know how to keep yourself engaged. You've taken up snorkling, discovering a world beneath the surface, a peacefulness in that otherly world, the float and flow almost like flying. You've always had an interest in and facility for languages, and you've been teaching yourself—Hindi, different dialects of Spanish, Japanese. Not for any reason; just because.

At the moment you're down at the shore watching the tide roll in, unurgent but inexorable, when a shadow slants across the sand into your vision. You look up at Sergei, not bothering to shield your eyes as the dark glasses you bought at the tourist stand your first day are doing as fine a job of keeping the sun from your eyes as they did when you got them months ago.

He sits on the sand beside you and looks out at the ocean too. "I have to go to Tokyo on business," he tells you in an oh so casual tone. "Would you like to come along?"

"You don't have any business in Japan," you say, unfooled by his casualness.

"Your happiness is my business," he says smoothly, not missing a beat.

It's a ridiculous thing to say, and you should snort and he should grin. It's ridiculous, but...

You don't snort and he doesn't grin. You sit side by side, watching the ocean, the easy rolling tide as unurgent and inexorable as Sergei himself.

 

Four days later, Holden Caulfield gets the second stamp on his passport. You look out the window on the ride to the hotel, but even though it's your first time in Japan and you should be taking in every new sight, you don't see any of it.

"You know what my favorite line from _Catcher in the Rye_ is?"

You hide the way Sergei has startled you out of yourself by turning to him, brow arched. Your passport is open in your lap and you figure your name has caught his eye again, though he's not laughing this time. You wait for him to go on, expecting to hear about the crazy cliff—

'"'The mark of the immature man is that he wants to die nobly for a cause,'" he says, his gaze fixed out the window now, and you think, _ah, of course_. He finishes the line: "'While the mark of the mature man is that he wants to live humbly for one.'"

Oh.

 _Oh_.

He keeps looking out the window. You look at him for a while longer, and he lets you, and then you look out the window too until you arrive at the hotel.

You check in and take the elevator up to settle in your separate, adjacent but not adjoining, rooms. You weren't sure Sergei was really going to come all the way to Tokyo. You don't know whether he has any actual legitimate business here. You haven't asked; it doesn't really matter.

After unpacking your bag you take a quick bath, and then you go next door and knock. "I'm going out," you say when Sergei opens the door. You turn without another word from yourself or from him; you don't want his snark now and you don't want his sincerity. You know he knows where you're going and you don't even want to see him smile about it.

You walk to the station, the one whose line will take you _there_... and you walk past it. You keep walking.

You walk through the streets of Tokyo, until you see a building you recognize from online pictures.

Tokyo University Library is one of the largest in Japan. You've taken virtual tours of it. Now you have a chance to see the real thing in person.

Your Japanese still isn't very good but it's good enough for you to understand at the front desk that they want to see your passport. You show it to the young woman behind the desk and moments later, she's handing you a one day pass, and you're in.

You feel like you're breathing again and wonder when you stopped. You take an especially deep breath, feel yourself expanding and expanding inside. You let the breath out and you're not empty. You're breathing.

You wander around inside for a while, not exactly aimless, not entirely purposeful. It's beautiful. Of course it is; you've never met a library, no matter how small or grand, that you didn't love. 

Your Japanese might not be very good but it's good enough that you're able to find the English language floor, once you start looking for it. You don't have any particular book in mind and resume wandering, up and down aisles of books this time. Mary Renault's _Fire From Heaven_ catches your eye and you hook your finger over the top of the spine, pulling it towards you.

You find an empty seat and sit down to start reading.

You don't know how long you've been there, breathing and reading, when a shadow crosses your light. The shadow settles in your light, and you look up—

You look at each other. 

For a moment, or perhaps for longer than a single moment because time seems to have stopped moving for you, and maybe for him too, but for a moment you just look at each other.

Then you're not just looking at each other because Eiji is smiling as he looks at you.

And you—well, you don't know what your mouth is doing.

Yeah, time has stopped. It must have, because you can't feel your heartbeat or your breath but you know you're not dead...

Then Eiji's smile gets bigger, brighter, _luminous._ "Ash."

He says your name and time starts moving again, your heart thumping with every beat. He says that name and you don't correct him, you don't tell him it's not your name anymore, because in his voice, from his mouth, it is.

You mean to ask how he knew to come looking for you, how he found you, but the only part that comes out is, "You found me."

Still smiling, he nods. "I knew you'd be here."

There's so much to unpack in those five words. That he knew you were in Japan. That he knew you would come to a library instead of going to see him.

That he knows you. That he _knows_ you.

It starts, small and warm, deep inside you. Your smile works its way through you, turning you inside out, until it reaches your face. You move forward into his open arms, gathering him into yours.

You stop talking to yourself and just hold on.

**Author's Note:**

> Ash's chosen pseudonym for his new life, Holden Caulfield, is of course the name of the protagonist in _Catcher in the Rye._ Though unfashionable, it happens to be one of my favorite books, and when the title of the final episode came up at the end, I felt as if I'd been punched in the throat. In so many ways, Ash IS the catcher in the rye.
>
>> Anyway, I keep picturing all these little kids playing some game in this big field of rye and all. Thousands of little kids, and nobody's around - nobody big, I mean - except me. And I'm standing on the edge of some crazy cliff. What I have to do, I have to catch everybody if they start to go over the cliff - I mean if they're running and they don't look where they're going I have to come out from somewhere and catch them. That's all I do all day. I'd just be the catcher in the rye and all. I know it's crazy, but that's the only thing I'd really like to be.
> 
>   
>  That's Ash, I think.
> 
> The first title for this fic was pulled from the quote above, but wiser heads prevailed (thank you, A.) and in the end I used the line Blanca quotes to Ash in Tokyo—which also comes from _Catcher in the Rye_.


End file.
